Page 31 of Love Sick

Sadness overcomes him, and I wonder why. Doesn’t he want me to?

“You don’t remember me?”

“Bits and pieces,” I confess, caressing the hair at his temples. “There are holes in my memory, but it’s coming back.”

Unable to stop myself, I press a splayed palm on his chest. “I remember your heart. It sings to me.”

“You always said that. It’s because my heart is your son’s.”

“Misha,” I whisper, because I remember him. I knew he was dead, but I didn’t remember how or that he donated his heart to Dutch.

Tears gather because this feels like an old wound which will never close.

“I’m sorry, baby. I hate seeing you cry. But you need to know it all.”

“There’s more?”

With a heavy sigh, Dutch nods. “So much more, but now…I need you to get me the fuck out of here.”

His words jar me into action because time is of the essence. I forgot anything existed outside of this room because everything is so…calm with Dutch nearby.

“Is it always like this between us?”

I am drowning in a sea of blue as Dutch’s eyes soften. “Yes.”

I don’t need to explain what I mean because he gets it; he gets me, and that has nothing to do with the heart beating inside his chest. Misha’s heart may give him life, but that isn’t the reason I…love him.

I lovehimbecause he completes me in ways I don’t understand.

I suddenly hear music and when I look at the musical inspired tattoos on his body, I know that music comes from Dutch. I feel like I’m falling in love with him all over again and nothing has felt more beautiful.

Falling in love is a magical experience. So to be able to do it twice—I won’t waste a single second.

The leather whines under the blade as I hack at it quickly, but it just doesn’t seem to want to budge.

Dutch suddenly stiffens as his astute eyes focus on the doorway. “You’ve got to go!” he says on a rushed breath.

I have no idea why, until I hear it…

Click…click…click.

And just like that, I’m transported back in time…

Suddenly, I hear the click…click…click of heels echoing down the corridor. The sound sends chills down my spine.

A beautiful blonde woman appears, wheeling a chair, her spotless white doctor’s coat hinting who she is. But I’ve never seen her before.

She enters the bathroom and stops beside the bathtub. She exhales when she peers down at Dutch. I don’t know what it is about her, but I instantly don’t like her. Even though she wears a doctor’s uniform, I don’t think she’s here to help.

“I’m sorry, but you gave me no choice,” she scolds, arms folded. “I can’t show special preference because of who you are.”

What does that mean? Just who is he, then?

“You can’t behave that way,” she continues, talking to him like a child. “I’m trying to help you. I’m trying to make you better so you can play music again. I know that if you can do that again, everything will be all right. We’ll be all right again. I love you, Jonathan. Please come back to me.”

Reality winds me as I focus on the truth and time stands still as I turn over my shoulder, only remembering there are two beds in here.

What I see has me gasping in horror.

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